For What It’s Worth
by DodgerBear
Summary: A prison rumor could change everything for Ian and Mickey.


"Hey Gallagher?"

"Yeah Mick?"

"You're gonna be outta here soon."

Ian stopped mid-dip in his 76th press up and glanced up at Mickey. The older man was laying on the bottom bunk and staring resolutely up at the springs on the top bunk.

"I got three more months."

"Nah man. I heard that fat fuck warden with the lazy eye talkin to that other fat fuck with the acne problem about you this morning..."

"You know, conversations would be a lot easier if you just learned their names." Ian drawled.

Mickey shot him a glare. "Anyway, he was sayin that there's a few guys gettin out soon. You were one of them."

Ian pushed off the floor of the cell and bounced to his feet. "Nobody said anything to me."

"That's not how they work. You wake up one morning and they call your name and you're gone."

"Three months is really early." Ian didn't want to acknowledge that Mickey's claim could hold any credibility.

"Hey man, three months is nothing. I got out nine months early after I punched that cop."

Ian stretched out his arms above his head. "I dunno Mick. Doesn't seem likely."

"Look, all I'm sayin is be prepared. You've done more than a year for a crime that didn't hurt nobody and you've been a total fuckin wallflower since you got here. Chances are you'll be the first one out." Mickey stated and Ian couldn't really find any holes in his logic.

"Right." Ian murmured and turned his back to Mickey. The cell was suddenly even smaller than its actual size and it was stifling Ian to the point he wanted to burst out. He hated moments like this more than any other in prison. The walls closed in on him and left him struggling to breathe. Mickey always seemed so calm about being locked in a tiny room, which in turn was locked in a compound that kept them from everything they loved in the world. Well, _almost_ everything. The overwhelming ache in Ian's chest was a painful reminder that his love for Mickey was so beyond anything else in his life that he would actually prefer to be locked up inside a prison with him than outside in the world and free without him.

"Gallagher, it's not a bad thing. Don't worry about it." Mickey's voice was thick, like he was holding back his emotions.

Ian turned back to face Mickey and saw the sadness in his eyes. "I don't want to be away from you."

Mickey smiled weakly. "Not exactly my dream scenario either man. But it's time for you to be back home. Back with the millions of Frank-spawn in that crazy house. It's time for you to live your life again."

"My life is with you."

"Ian..." Mickey sighed heavily and got to his feet. "Your life is waiting for you out there. My life is in here, washing crusty fuckin sheets and tryna avoid gettin my head kicked in for ratting on a cartel."

Ian shook his head but couldn't find the words to tell Mickey that he didn't want freedom if it meant being apart from him. Something told him Mickey knew though, because the brunet reached out to touch Ian and pull him closer.

"You gotta get out there and get your life back Ian. Find a job, stay stable on your meds, stick to a routine. That's what your mind needs. Structure and routine. That's why you coped so well in here. That's what you need in the real world. I get it now. I get why you left me at the border. I get and I'm over it." Mickey explained softly.

Ian's eyes filled up with tears as the guilt and shame flooded his body. "Mick..."

"Gallagher. For fuck sake man. I didn't say that shit to upset you. I'm serious. I'm over it. I forgive you or whatever." Mickey scratched the back of his neck.

The pair just stared at each other for what felt like hours. Ian sometimes struggled with eye contact because he knew he gave away every thought and feeling he was having. His court-assigned therapist had suggested when they first met that it could be related to his bipolar. Ian didn't really understand the words they used but he grasped that eye contact was linked to the cognitive brain function and that's what bipolar fucked around with. Essentially. But this was just one more barrier that Mickey tore down without even trying. Somehow Ian could stare into Mickey's eyes and let him see the depth of his soul without flinching.

"I've got another year, at least, after you go. Probably more. You can't waste any more time in here." Mickey murmured.

The weight of his words settled on the room and Ian shook his head again. "I don't know what I'll do without you being around every day."

Mickey clicked his tongue. "Don't say shit like that. You've managed to get by without me over the years."

"Get by is just about all I've done! The last year is when I've really lived." Ian retorted, irrationally angry at the man in front of him.

"For what it's worth Ian, the same goes. Sure, the food sucks and the locals aren't always so friendly but this stint has been a walk in the fuckin park because I've had you here. But that don't change anything. You have to live your life."

"YOU KEEP SAYIN THAT! Live my life! What the fuck does that even mean?" Ian exploded in rage.

"It means get out of here, don't look back and move the fuck on! It means take your goddamn pills every goddamn day. It means be with your family. Go to the movies. Walk on the fuckin beach. It means forget this place and everything about it!" Mickey snapped back in muted fury.

The last thing he wanted was the screws patrolling the wing to hear them yelling shit and separating them.

"Forget about you. That's what you're gettin at, right?" Ian exhaled harshly, stumbling back to lean against the wall.

"If you have to. If that's what it takes. Yes. That's what I'm gettin at."

"Fuck you." Ian spat.

"Fuck me yourself."

"Is this funny to you? Mr Fuckin Big Shot, King of the fuckin Exercise Yard standing there making sex jokes while telling me we're done once I get out? That's funny?" Ian growled.

"Hey Gallagher. Just doin you a favor. Just letting you know I'm good with you doing what you gotta do. No need to feel guilty about it." Mickey shrugged but his stomach clenched in disgust at the mere thought of Ian fucking anyone other than him.

"You're a fuckin coward Mick."

"I'm _realistic_ Ian. We've been here before, you and me, and if you think back it didn't end so well for me when you were on the other side of that glass." Mickey snarled.

"Jesus fuck Mick. What's it gonna take for you to see that I'm not that person anymore? How do I prove to you that I'm in this for real? Prison or no prison." Ian hissed and pushed himself off the wall to stalk closer to his man. Mickey was so wound up he was practically vibrating.

"You can't prove shit." He answered with a shrug. "I knew when I cut the deal that I'd have at least a year with you, maybe more. I knew it and I signed on the dotted line before the ink was dry on my confession. I took that deal because I wanted one year to be with you and I didn't think beyond that. I would've taken the deal for a week with you. But now we've had that time and I got lucky, I got to keep you for nearly two years. That's what you call exceeding expectations."

Ian felt a single hot tear escape from his left eye and roll down his cheek. "I'm not giving up on us."

"Like I said man, do what you gotta do." Mickey replied and backed away so he could lay back on his bed once more.

Ian grabbed his towel and clean underwear from his locker by the bed and stomped out of the cell, away from Mickey and in the direction of the shower block where he could cry his eyes out under the spray and nobody would notice the difference.

Mickey was asleep when Ian returned from his shower so he hoisted himself onto the top bunk and closed his eyes. The buzzer for lights out came and went but still Mickey didn't move or speak. Ian was ready to punch him away and demand he take back all the hurtful things he said before, but deep down he knew Mickey was dealing with a whole world of hurt and pain Ian had caused over the years by rejecting Mickey when he was most vulnerable.

"I love you Mick. We're gonna figure this out." He murmured and fell into a fitful sleep.

Ian woke early, way before the cell doors were opened for breakfast at 6am. Mickey was still asleep on the bunk below. His breathing was shallow and Ian ached to in the bunk beside him. They rarely slept apart. Neither cared that the guards could see them spooning as they slept, knowing that they were easy about them being a couple and not giving them shit. They were too busy dealing with more serious shit, like the blood up the walls when the inmates who turn prison-gay wake up the morning after and beat the snot out of the guy they'd fucked under the cover of darkness the night before. There was a lot of that in the joint. Some guys just can't function without fucking and some of those guys can't function knowing they've fucked another dude. Catch-22 at its darkest and finest.

Ian slipped out of his bunk and looked down at Mickey. The only man he'd ever truly loved. Trevor was the one who'd come closest but Ian recognized that for what it was now, a good friendship too quickly complicated by sex. If they'd stayed friends and never fucked then Ian and Trevor would still have a place in each other's lives. Maybe. Who the fuck knows? Between Ian's grief over losing Mickey and Monica and the kids at the youth center giving him his Gay Jesus schtick to run away with, Trevor just faded into a place in his mind that Ian didn't visit anymore.

"Quit staring at me, you creepy fuck." Mickey mumbled with a thick morning husk to his voice.

Ian chuckled softly. "Sorry. Wanted to get in but didn't want to wake you."

"Congratulations. You achieved neither."

Ian ignored the barbed comment, Mickey was absolutely _not_ a morning person, and crawled over Mickey's body to fill the gap between his boyfriend and the wall. Mickey let out a strained "oof" when Ian elbowed him in the ribs but dutifully shuffled to let him get comfortable.

"I've been thinking." Ian stated.

"Thought I could smell burning."

"You gonna be a dick all day or is this just a morning thing?"

"Haven't decided yet. I'll let you know." Mickey yawned and closed his eyes again.

"So...I was thinking about when I get out. I'm gonna be on parole and I'm gonna have to get a job..." Ian spoke softly.

"No shit. You learn all this in the library? It's almost like you grew up in the ghetto Ian, you're so knowledgeable."

"Stop fuckin talkin now Mick, before I find a way to shut you up for good." Ian warned.

Mickey just snorted. "Good luck with that Gallagher. Unless it's by shoving your dick down my throat. _That_ I can get on board with."

"Jesus Christ! Shut the fuck up!" Ian hissed and clamped his hand over Mickey's mouth. "Now listen...I'll get a job and live at the house with Liam and Lip. I'll save up some money and by the time you get out we'll have a deposit to put down on a place together. It'll be shitty but it'll be ours. And maybe Svetlana will let Yev stay over some nights."

Mickey turned to look at Ian, who removed his hand and smiled at his boyfriend.

"You've got the sex drive of a thirteen year old. What makes you think you're gonna last until I get out without finding some other dude to stick it in?"

"Well I was thinking I could just screw around with as many guys as possible until you get out. You know, just to tide me over." Ian retorted dryly.

Mickey narrowed his eyes. "You're a funny guy. Real funny guy."

Ian grabbed Mickey's face in his large hand. "My dick hasn't got hard for anyone else but you in a long fuckin time man. I plan on keeping it that way. The worst I'm gonna do is jack off every night to a picture of you." Ian promised. "I swear. You can trust me."

"I don't want you to do me any favors Ian. You don't owe me anything." Mickey sighed heavily.

Ian smiled sweetly and brushed a kiss over Mickey's pouty lips. "No. But I owe _us_ a chance to get this right. No more excuses. Not my bipolar. Not the fear of people finding out. Not the crazy shit that's gone before. No fuckin excuses. I'm gonna be here every visitation I can get, you know, when my PO hasn't got me working in some factory where I have to worry about losing fingers."

"Don't let anything happen to those fingers. My ass would never forgive you." Mickey warned seriously.

Ian giggled quietly. "I love you, Mick. This last year has given me everything I want for the rest of my life. I'm gonna be here when you get out. I'm gonna pick you up and take you to look at shitty apartments so you can pick where we live. Then we're gonna head down to City Hall and I'm gonna put a ring on it. Because I can't imagine my this whole living my life shit without you."

"That's some lame ass proposal, Mr Romantic." Mickey scoffed.

"That's just a heads up. The real proposal is gonna blow your mind." Ian leaned in for another kiss and Mickey captured his lips with his own. The kiss was a slow outpouring of every emotion they'd both felt in the last day and it lasted until the 6am buzzer went off. Mickey pulled back first and smiled at Ian in a daze.

"I guess we should make the most of every second we have left." He mumbled.

Ian grinned in reply. "I like the way you think."


End file.
